December 4, 2013

e-Book Giveaway, Author, Susan Muller

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Hi, Cheryl.  Thanks for inviting me on your blog today. For those who don’t know me, I’m Susan C. Muller. I live in Spring, Texas with my rescue dog, a border collie/sheltie mix named Maggie that keeps me on my toes. 
I write paranormal, romantic suspense. My Occult series may feature a ghost, a witch, or a voodoo priest, but there will always be a hot cop and a woman who gives him trouble.

Today I’m telling you about a little trouble I got into when my doctor casually mentioned, “I think it’s time we had an MRI.”  I don’t know where he got the ‘we’ part. I didn’t see him in that tube with me.
Last week my doctor wanted me to have an MRI. I had one several year ago and knew what to expect. MRI stands for Magnetic Resonant Imaging. In other words, a giant magnet.

The day before I was to have the test, a nurse call to make sure I was a good candidate.

Did I have any metal in my body?
A pacemaker, artificial hip or knees?
No. And my teeth are all my own and I wouldn’t be wearing any glasses or contacts.
Had I ever been a welder or hit by shrapnel?

Okay then, if I wore clothes with no snaps or zippers and took off all my rings, necklaces, earrings, and piercings, I was good to go.

That morning I took a bath, I don’t know why, it just seemed like I should, and put on my sports bra and elastic-waist pants. I was pulling on my socks when I noticed my toes. I was wearing glittery nail polish.

Now, I’m like most women. I like a little bling now and then. I just tend to wear it were no one but me can see it. So the last time I got a pedicure, I went all out and picked glitter for my color. I have no idea what glitter is made out of. Do you? Something must make it sparkle that way. The manicurist had frowned when I picked it and complained that it was hard to get off, but I ignored her.

Was it safe to wear in an MRI? I didn’t know, but having it ripped off by a big magnet didn’t sound pleasant. I had ten minutes before my friend was picking me up, so I decided to be safe and take it off.

Boy, was that manicurist right. That stuff does not want to come off. I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, and every time I looked, some of it was still there. And the part that did come off was on my feet and hands.

I had my MRI and nothing dangerous happened so I guess glitter is made from some non-metallic substance. A few minutes ago I was getting dressed and glanced down at my dull toes, wondering if I should spring for another pedicure.
My little toe winked back at me, still holding onto its last few pieces of glitter.

What about you? What is your favorite self-indulgence? If it’s a pedicure, what color do you like?

After my sob story we could all use a good laugh. 

Here’s an excerpt from The Witch on Twisted Oak.

Tessa has had a very bad day. Someone broke into her house and destroyed all her paintings. Detective Ruben Marquez has insisted it’s not safe for her to stay there alone and has taken her to his cabin on Lake Livingston. Unfortunately, that means she must take her cat, Bob, which reminds Ruben he’s pet sitting for a neighbor and must take their dog, Molly. Ruben’s mother, Mamacita, doesn’t like the idea of the two of them going alone and insists on accompanying them.
Tessa comes out of the shower just a Ruben returns from walking the dog, and Molly jumps on Tessa resulting in Tessa, Ruben, and Molly landing in a heap on the floor.

Tessa hugged Bob to her chest and slipped silently into bed. She had ditched her muddy flannel pajama bottoms and wore only her bikini panties, but her t-shirt hung to mid-thigh.

Mamacita snorted and rolled onto her side.

So much for hoping the old woman had slept through the commotion.
She stroked Bob, but the cat remained on high alert. Within minutes, Mamacita was fast asleep.

Molly guarded the far side of the closed door, whining periodically. Whenever Molly whined, Bob hissed. As Mamacita slipped deeper into sleep, she began to snore.

Soon, Tessa had a symphony. Whine, hiss, snore. Whine, hiss, snore. Whine, hiss, snore. She tried to calm Bob, but he’d have none of it. She brushed her arm against Mamacita, hoping she would roll over. Nope.

After an hour, Molly’s whining had stopped, but Bob still make low, growling sounds, deep in his throat, and Mamacita’s snores had risen several decibels. Tessa’s nerves jumped and twitched until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

She eased out of the bed and held her ear against the closed door. No sound greeted her. Molly’s shadow wasn’t visible through the space at the bottom.

She hugged Bob and slipped through the bedroom door, closing it softly behind her. Ruben had pulled mattresses from two of the cubbies and placed them blocking the front door.

His body lay on one mattress, covered by a light blanket. His feet hung over onto the second mattress with no cover. The moon glinted off the gun on the floor beside him.

He had removed his shoes, but not his clothes or socks. Molly’s leash was wrapped around his hand, and she lifted her head as Tessa and Bob entered the room.

Ruben’s hand gave a slight jerk and Molly’s head dropped back down.
So he was awake. Tessa tugged on the hem of her t-shirt and climbed into Bob’s favorite cubby, pulling the curtain tight.

Mamacita’s snoring was immediately muffled and Bob relaxed in his familiar spot. Tessa’s eyes began to droop and her body felt like it was floating. She would stay awake, make sure Bob and Molly didn’t get into any trouble, but at least she was comfortable.

Tessa’s eyes jerked open in the darkness. Something was wrong. Something was missing. Her hand searched the cubby but Bob wasn’t there. Her heart caught in her throat. Where was he, what had happened?

She peeked out of the curtain. Molly slept on the sofa, her leash tied to one arm. Ruben was stretched out on the recliner. One hand stroked a contented Bob, curled on his chest.

When had that happened? Bob seldom went to her, and never to other people. She pulled the curtain back into place and closed her eyes. If she tried to retrieve him, she’d wake Molly and start the symphony all over again.

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     Susan C Muller, Author

Twitter: @SusanCMuller


  1. Hi, Cheryl. Thanks for having me.

  2. Great excerpt, Susan. I can tell there's trouble a-brewin'. Good job.

  3. Thanks, JD Hugs right back at ya.